


A Hint Merely

by outofcertainty



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, more will probably be added but let's start small
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-18 22:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outofcertainty/pseuds/outofcertainty
Summary: A collection of drabbles with various ships in several settings, from canon compliant to canon divergent to alternate universes.





	1. Seelie Attire [Malec]

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I still want to write but I'm too tired to work on fic proper. Sometimes the ideas just don't pan out. Sometimes I just want to practice writing a specific character to wrap my head around them, or a scenario that's going to be used in a later fic.
> 
> Hence, this. Feel free to make requests, but I can't promise I'll get to them in a timely manner until uni is over. Oh and tags/warnings will be added as I go.
> 
> That said, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnus is dressed up to attend a Seelie party. Alec isn't, and then he is.

There was a rose where the doorknob used to be.

Alec stared at it for a moment, brow furrowed first in confusion, then in worry. It _could_ just be the latest in Magnus’ redecoration efforts, but those were usually restricted to the inside of the loft. Nothing else seemed amiss: the hallway was the same as always, there were no signs of forced entry, there weren’t even any suspicious noises coming from Magnus’ place.

Although there was _something_.

He strained a little to hear it, the sound hazy and muted. It sounded like… a whistle, maybe, or- no, the sound of a stream- no, not that, either, vibrating glass?  
  
Alec shook his head and grabbed his bow. It didn’t sound _dangerous_ but when you dealt with visitors from the Shadow World on a regular basis, you learned how to be cautious of seemingly innocuous things. _Especially_ , he thought, eyeing the rose, _when it came to the Fair Folk_.

His fingers skimmed the petals - not soft at all, but hard, as if made of crystal. The door itself gave no resistance, opening when he pushed it, allowing Alec to swiftly step inside, bowstring drawn tight.

“Magnus?”

“Alec?”

He turned swiftly to face the voice, wary still of some sort of Seelie trickery, but the question on the tip of his tongue died as soon as Magnus came into view. The warlock was always a sight, regardless of whether he was dressed to the nines or wearing nothing but the fogginess of sleep in the mornings, but like _this_ -

Hair perfectly styled, reminiscent of the first time they met, with gold and purple leaves blending seamlessly with his dark strands; sharp, cat-like eyes surrounded by dark power and actual, tiny glittering crystals like morning dew rather than the usual glitter; top lip painted dark purple and light blue, dipping down onto the centre of his lower lip.

The necklace wrapped tightly around his neck like a choker had several threads hanging down, past his shoulders and his arms, brushing against his chest and the widest point of his hips - like golden weeping willow leaves, his brain provided - and the waist of some sort of skirt with patterns that seemed to shift and sway like the wind, parted on the side. There was nothing on his feet, but several of his toes and fingers had colorful vines and small, tiny flowers wrapped around them.

Alec stared, watching Magnus come closer, heartbeat hammering in his ears and a deep-seated _hunger_ burning in his sternum.  Something must have shown on his face - Magnus stared back, one hand raised to touch the side of Alec’s face, tongue flickering across his bottom lip and immediately drawing his attention to the painted dip there.

“Why are you…”

“A Seelie affair. It is May and thus, a time for celebration. A long, drawn out celebration, lasting many days - in their realm, you understand. Here, it will take barely an hour.”

Alec nodded, putting away his bow with more carelessness than usual to hook one finger in Magnus’ skirt and tug him gently forward, free hand wrapping around one of the many dangling threads. 

“You look… _perfect_.”

“Why thank you, Alexander,” the warmth in those words didn’t compare to the way Magnus was looking at him, all love and affection and gratitude and vulnerability and a hunger that must be close to his own. “You know, you could come with me, my dear.”

“I don’t think I’m dressed for it, Magnus,” it was an amusing thought and very, very tempting. Alec was never one to shirk his duties but he did have the next hour free. Time passed differently in the Seelie Realms, where days could translate to mere minutes or hours. And they had been so _busy_ lately, with barely enough time for themselves…

“Come with me?”

Releasing a breath, Alec nodded and let himself be led by the hand into Magnus’ room, and then gently pushed into sitting on the bed. The warlock looked over him with a critical, appraising eye, and then sighed.

“I do wish I had the time to do this properly, by hand. Perhaps another time.”

A snap of his fingers and Alec felt something wash over him, something cool and flowing. Another snap and there was a mirror in front of him and it took him a second to even _recognize_ himself.

His hair was wilder than usual, and it swayed very gently, giving him the sudden impression of waves washing on a shore. A subtle touch of dark around his eyes made their color pop, even more with the shimmering stones dangling down his left year - topaz and smoky quartz and moonstone, like crystallized raindrops and Alec didn’t even have his ears pierced. 

He looked odd, a little strange, but after a few seconds, the feeling passed. Still he stared, no longer uncomfortable but wondering if perhaps he should be. If thinking it looked okay - _good_ \- was cause for concern.

Glancing down revealed a simple tunic and a pair of pants, both black but glimmering silver whenever the light caught them just so, like moonlight reflecting off a slow moving tide.

“If you had an affinity for an element, it would be water,” the mirror disappear and Magnus leaned closer, bracing one knee on the bed, cupping Alec’s face in warm hands, a teasing smile gracing his lips. “Such is the depth of you. You can be _unstoppable_ , such a force to be reckoned with, Alexander… but so gentle, when you choose to be.”

“So can you,” a smile tugged at his mouth, lopsided, honest. “You’re the High Warlock of Brooklyn.”

“That I am.”

Magnus tilted Alec’s head back a little further and leaned down, so close that their breaths mingled, so close that he could almost _taste him_ \- and then pulled back, a mischievous glint in his eyes that made Alec instantly wary.

“What?”  
  
“Well, this is a May celebration. You must be seen wearing flowers somewhere, my dear.”

“Wh-” 

One more snap of his fingers and Magnus held it in his hands: reddish brown and black and pearl white mingling together in full bloom. Alec barely had enough time to stare at it before it was gently being placed on his head.

“A flower crown, Magnus? Really?”

The warlock leaned back so they could look at each other and sighed dramatically, waving his flower-adorned fingers.

“I know, I know. My first idea was _much_ more creative, but I thought that would be taking the deflowering metaphor a little too far. Unless you disagree?”

For a moment Alec didn’t answer, staring at his boyfriend with furrowed brows - and then it dawned on him, making his cheeks flush red even as laughter bubbled out of him.

“Magnus! No, not- the crown is fine.”

“Are you _absolutely certain_ -”  
  
“Magnus!”


	2. Bad Mental Health Day [Jimon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace isn't very good at taking care of himself on bad days. Simon helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While there’s nothing graphic in this, it deals with symptoms of depression. Just a heads-up.]

The sound tore him forcefully from his sleep.

Jace muttered something into the pillow, reaching for blindly for the alarm clock. It took a couple of tries to turn the blasted thing off but he managed, letting his hand rest there. There were a few noises coming from the kitchen every once in a while but other than that, everything was calm and silent. His mind was too hazy to try and guess the time and even recalling the day – Saturday – was difficult.

He was so _tired_.

After a few more moments, he managed to slowly sit up. Everything felt slow and disconnected, his limbs moving seemingly eons after he willed them to. For a while he just breathed, running a hand slowly through his hair. It felt too dry, too brittle against his skin. One breath in, one breath out and he managed to crack his eyes open. Sluggishly, Jace stood up and walked over to the bedroom door, pausing momentarily to rest a hand against the frame before walking to the kitchen.

The noise grew louder as he approached and Simon already being up and about came as no surprise. The TV was on, but he didn’t bother to check what his boyfriend was watching.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

Making a vague noise that could probably pass for a greeting, Jace hauled himself onto a chair. The coffee machine was on, his usual mug placed underneath it. Most mornings, he would head straight to it, only talking after several mouthfuls of caffeine. Today, the sight of it made his stomach churn.

“Well, someone’s in a grumpy mood. Is it because of last night? Look, I know you didn’t want to watch Dracula, but it’s a classic-“

His eyelids slowly drifted shut. There was a lot to do: he’d promised Isabelle to go help her with something this morning, he’d promised Simon they’d go out for coffee during the afternoon, they had to do their grocery shopping for the coming week, there was a bunch of plates piled up by the sink and half the apartment needed a good cleaning.

He was so tired.

“-didn’t even scream as much as you said I would, okay, maybe a little, but I mean the guy is pretty creepy, not really scary you know but kind of really weird-“

A feeble spark of irritation rose in him at the constant chatter but it fizzled out just as quickly. The mental list of things he had to do today seemed to grow larger and larger, bigger, impossible to achieve despite the fact he usually did it without problem – and what was the point, anyway? It was all so exhausting and they could all deal without him. They’d be fine. He just wanted to sleep.

He was so tired.

“Hey. Jace. _Jace_.”

Cold skin against his cheek made him open his eyes again. Simon was standing in front of him, somehow having wedged himself between Jace and the table. He was frowning slightly, brows low in concern, glasses slightly askew. It made him want to right them up – his fingers twitched but nothing else happened. Maybe he could tell him but speaking was difficult and words seemed to slip from his grasp.

He didn’t need to, because in the next moment Simon nodded twice, seemingly to himself.

“Okay. Okay. Do you think you can eat?”

It took him a few seconds to understand the question and a few more to get the words out, tongue heavy and clumsy.

“Not hungry.”

The soft press of lips against his forehead made him blink, made him try and focus on Simon again.

“I know, I know. Here’s what we’re gonna do, okay? You’re going to take a shower-“ that was so much work and he was so _tired_. “I know, it’s tiring, but you’ll feel better afterwards. I promise. While you do that, I’m going to cook us some pancake- ah, maybe not, that didn’t really go all that well last time-“

This time, the babbling and the slightly wide eyes made his lips twitch up just a little. He’d never known anyone who talked so much, who used so many words in an effort to disguise the important ones so that they’d pass by unnoticed, in an effort to distract everyone from his emotions, clearly on display, to make them focus on the nonsense and the jokes.

Jace noticed.

He was so _tired_ , but he noticed.

“Almost burned the kitchen down.”

“I did not!” came the indignant reply. “Okay, maybe- it was just _a little_ fire, okay? But that’s not the point- look, I’ll order in some pancakes and waffles and we’ll camp in front of the TV and you don’t have to do anything else today. You can just rest."

At the mention of rest, he remembered all the things he _did_ have to do today and his limbs felt twice as heavy.

“I have to-“

“No, no you don’t,” Simon stared straight at him and spoke, quiet and reassuring. “You really don’t. Look, I’ll call them and say you need a day off. I know you want to take care of them, but you need to take care of yourself too. So let me do that, just for today. Okay?”

He was so tired and Simon so earnest that just this once, Jace nodded. Something in his chest felt a little lighter at the smile he got in return, at the soft, short kisses pressed against his mouth and his cheek and his nose and, just this once, Jace didn’t pretend to swat him away.

It was exhausting, dragging himself to the shower, even if he did feel better afterwards. Not that he told Simon that. In fact, he didn’t say much of anything all day, but when they were curled up on the floor in front of the TV, Jace curled around his boyfriend, face pressed against his naked shoulder due to the oversized shirt the man insisted on wearing as pajamas skewing to the side, he managed a small ‘thank you’ pressed against his skin.

Simon said nothing, but Jace could see him smile from the corner of his eye.


	3. Love Spell [Jimon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt on tumblr which you can find [HERE](http://neonlightwood.tumblr.com/post/159443920965/what-is-the-point-of-having-a-show-about-beautiful). Basically, Simon gets cursed and everyone falls in love with him - except Jace, who's acting surprisingly normal.

Okay, so maybe the day had started off _a little_ weirdly.

Not that Raphael was a big talker, usually preferring to intimidate people by giving them the silent and stony treatment, but the conversation had been a lot quieter than usual. He hadn’t told Simon to shut up more than twice, for one, and he kept _staring_ at him in a way that was starting to make him uncomfortable. It reminded him too much of how they had met, when he was still a mundane, taken captive by Camille. _Like prey_ , his brain helpfully supplied, _and thank you so much for that, brain_.

It wasn’t until he made his way out that he realized it wasn’t just Raphael, but every other vampire in the premises too. For a moment, he wondered if he had done something to make them really, truly angry but he couldn’t remember anything that would earn him more than a rebuke. His thoughts were interrupted by someone stepping right in front of him, making him stop abruptly, raising both hands in instinct.

“Woah, uh-“

“Hey. You come here often?”

Simon blinked, a little stunned, and looked at the girl. He’d absolutely never seen her before, which only added to the confusion. While he had started getting some attention after being taken under Raphael and Magnus’ wing, it had never been to quite this extreme. Any amount of interest in him was still surprising, as he wasn’t used to it yet – because he was a nerd, _yes, thank you brain_ – but this was just… baffling. Simon looked around, at the old red brick buildings and the crosswalk not ten feet away from them.

“We’re… outside? On the street?”

“Right, so listen,” she said, completely disregarding his answer, trailing one finger down the front of his shirt. Some people around them had stopped to stare, the same intense look in their eyes that Raphael had earlier. Something prickled the back of his neck. “If you want to go somewhere-“

“No, I’m good- thank you- excuse me,” he stepped away as quickly as possible without resorting to superhuman speed, ignoring the way she called out after him and deftly avoiding the people who seemed to be ready to intercept him next.

Either the universe was playing a gigantic prank on him – and wasn’t that the story of his life, or maybe undeath now that he thought about it – or something was wrong. He ducked into an alley and tried to think. Okay, so Raphael was out if the way he had been eyeing him like his next meal was anything to go by. Maybe Clary could help but no, he didn’t want to drag her into whatever this was, at least until he had some idea of what on Earth was going on. So maybe- Magnus! Magnus would know what to do.

Simon nodded, smiling, pleased with himself until he saw the shadow of someone following him into the alley and decided to make himself scarce. It didn’t take him long to get to the loft – although longer than usual as he tried to avoid being seen – and he left himself in as soon as he arrived.

“Magnus? Magnus, I uh, I kinda need your… help?”

“Simon.”

A head of perfectly styled hair – okay, seriously, how did he do that – popped out of the kitchen and Simon immediately headed that way, shoulders sagging in relief. If there was anyone that’d be able to help him figure this out, it was Magnus. Even if it was all inside his head – and maybe, just maybe, there was a little bit of fear that it was, that he was definitively losing his mind for good and it hadn’t just been the turning-into-a-vampire thing – the warlock would still have some comforting words to say.

“Oh man, Magnus, I am having a _day_ \- listen, everyone has been staring at me weirdly, all intense and a little bit creepy-“ he cut himself off, stopping on his way to Magnus, noticing the piercing gaze directed towards him. Slowly, Simon started to backtrack. “Kinda… like… that…”

Another head popped out of the kitchen, bringing him a second of relief before he noticed an equally intense expression on Alec’s face.

“I- I- I’m gonna go-“ he said, definitively _not_ squeaking, before turning around and blindly running into the nearest room. It took him a moment to remember that he should probably have just left, instead, and Simon was already cursing himself for his poor, panic-induced, decision-making skills when he turned around in the middle of the bathroom – only to come face to face with _Alec_.

Instinctively raising his hands, he took a couple of steps back, then a few more as the other man followed, until he bumped into the sink. Magnus was right behind him, clutching a wine glass tightly in his hand.

“Uhm. Guys? What’s going on?”

For a very long – and really rather uncomfortable, honestly – moment, no one spoke. Then Alec leaned a little closer, making him instinctively jump onto the sink, although that didn’t seem to deter him any.

“Marry me.”

Simon stared. Alec held his gaze.

“What.”

“Marry me.”

“Okay,” this was so, so wrong, either he was stuck in some odd dream or – he didn’t even know. “First of all, _you guys_ ,” he pointed first at Alec, then Magnus, then back again. “Love each other. Unconditionally. Like we’re talking Romeo and Juliet, star-crossed levels of love here.”

“Marry us,” Magnus suggested, apparently unperturbed by his boyfriend asking Simon to _marry_ him _and what on Earth was going on_.

“How would that _even work_? And no- I love you but it’s not _that_ kind of love, more like an older-“ Alec took a step closer, almost trapping him, and Simon froze for a moment. Oh boy. “I’m really, _really_ sorry about this.”

Before either of them had time to say anything else, he suddenly jumped off the sink with enough speed to knock both Alec and Magnus down on the way.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry- I’ll make it up to you later when you’re not-“ he couldn’t stop babbling even as he sped his way out, mind on overdrive. The door was still open so it was easy to make his way out, then all the way down the building – by the stairs, thank God for enhanced speed, he didn’t want to risk the elevator – and he was just about to turn the corner when he collided with a firm, broad chest.

_Jace_ , his traitorous brain provided at the first sight of golden hair, and then, _oh no_.

Rather than looking at him like he was the last cup of coffee in the entire state, however, Jace merely raised a brow.

“You need to watch where you’re going Simon.”

“Your _brother_ just asked me to marry him!”

_Oh, crap crap crap_ , he thought, cursing his lack of a brain-to-mouth filter. That wasn’t what he was supposed to start with.

Jace’s brow rose even higher and he scoffed. “What, _Alec_?”

Simon stared at him for a second and then decided, _screw it, the day couldn’t get any worse anyway_ , before grabbing Jace’s shirt by the front and pulling him in, too busy panicking to think it through.

“ _Listen to me_. Raphael and everyone else was eyeing me all weirdly today and a bunch of people tried to corner me to ask me out or give me their number and then- and then! Your brother asked me to marry him and then Magnus asked me to marry them and I really hope there’s something wrong because it’s either that or I’m losing my mind and everyone keeps staring at me like I’m a piece of meat do you know how uncomfortable that is- I mean not as uncomfortable as being seen as a literal meal but it’s pretty close I’ll have you-“

A hand pressed firmly against his mouth stopped him from continuing to talk, even as he still tried to ask a question. Jace was staring at him with narrowed eyes, the same pinched look on his face that always showed up whenever he was trying to figure something out. After a moment, the hand dropped.

“I don’t feel any different.”

Simon stared at him for a few seconds and then grinned, relief coursing through him as he gripped Jace’s shoulders and shook him a little, mindless of the annoyed look being thrown his way.

“ _Yes_! Sorry, I just – at least someone’s still acting normal!”

“Are you sure you didn’t drink, I don’t know, something a little o-“

“Hey.”

They both stopped and turned to see who had interrupted them. Simon looked up and up and up, not really afraid but still filled with a little trepidation. The guy was huge, towering above them, with a bald head and a full beard and wearing far too much leather for this time of the year. He was strong enough to take the man if he had to now, but he hadn’t always been and some instincts were hard to overcome.

“He bothering you?” the biker asked, nodding towards Jace. “If he is, I’ll take care of him. Tell you what, why don’t I do that anyway and we can go somewhere… private?”

“Uh,” Simon replied, blinking. “No, no I’m good, thanks-“

“Excuse me?” Jace interrupted him, stepping in front of Simon and crossing his arms, brow rising again, sharply. The stubborn set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders were dead giveaways that a fight was probably going to break out very, very soon. Simon cursed his luck – usually, seeing Jace really to kick some ass was both hot and annoying, but now- okay, it was _still_ hot and annoying but also _really unnecessary_. “He’s not going anywhere with you.”

Making a quick executive decision – and not letting himself rethink it – Simon apologized, punched the biker in the jaw hard enough to push him down, grabbed the wrist of an indignant Jace and dragged him away as quickly as his vampire legs allowed him to.

Unfortunately, his day could and did keep getting _worse_.

They had tried going to the Jade Wolf, which was a terrible idea in retrospect. Luke’s entire pact had been affected by whatever was going on, which only resulted in both of them teaming up to literally fight their way out. _That_ was going to require an explanation and probably a lot of apologies. Simon didn’t think anyone had gotten seriously hurt but it still made him feel a little guilty.

Jace persuaded him to try and ask Clary for help but at the first sight of her widening eyes, something long gone flickering in them, Simon had backtracked and ran off. That really wasn’t a can of worms he wanted to open ever again, especially as they had _just_ reached the point of being okay. Isabelle was next, but when her expression – and the one of the two other Shadowhunters she was with – changed, it was Jace’s turn to drag him away.

Simon sat on the ground now, legs crossed, squinting at the sun poking out from behind Jace’s form pacing back and forth in front of him. They didn’t have any other leads and really didn’t want to risk dragging any other friends into this. Everyone seemed affected, except for the Shadowhunter currently running a hand through his hair.

“And it all started this morning.”

“Yeah. Everyone was _normal_ yesterday and then this morning-“

“What did you do yesterday?”

“Nothing.”

Jace stopped pacing and turned to him, one corner of his mouth tugging down into a frown. That reply clearly wasn’t acceptable and Simon sighed a little.

“I really did nothing. I was training most of the day- sorry, night. I only spoke with Raphael once. I didn’t want to interrupt his important dinner, you know? Like with the Seelie and the warlock, but it was really urgent and-“

“Wait,” Jace interrupted. “A warlock? And you just remembered that _now_?”

“Well no,” he replied, feeling a little insulted. “But he didn’t _do_ anything. He just said that interrupting was bad manners and asked if no one had ever taught me some – which they did! My mom was really insistent on being a gentle-“

Jace sighed, pressing a finger against his temple for a moment, and then pulled out his stele.

“He didn’t do anything right _then_ , where you could _see_ , Simon. Come on, get up. We have a warlock to track.”

Swallowing down his protests – he wanted to ask Magnus to talk to him first, but he also really didn’t want to ask Magnus for anything right now – Simon got up and followed him, ignoring the trepidation bubbling in his chest.

Which was good, because the fight turned out to be very… anticlimactic. It wasn’t even a fight at all, despite Jace doing his hardest to turn it into one – and oh God, Simon really needed to find a better and healthier thing to get hot and bothered over, something weird but totally harmless, like feet or whatever –, all it had required was a sincere apology and a latte.

It still didn’t stop him from feeling nervous as they stepped outside the coffee shop they had tacked the warlock to. Someone bumped into his shoulder and Simon immediately tensed up, ready to run again at the slightest hint of a love confession.

“Watch where you’re going!” the passerby snapped, before continuing on her way.

Simon watched her go in disbelief, and then _grinned_ , belatedly remembering to yell out a “sorry!”. Manners were what started this whole mess in the first place and he wasn’t in any hurry to repeat any of this. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as the movies made it out to be. Kind of like being a vampire, really.

He looked over at Jace who was staring at him, mouth tugging up in an amused smirk as it always did whenever he tried to keep from smiling and failed.

“Well, that was something.”

“Yeah. Let’s _not_ do that again.”

“You’re telling me. You weren’t the one being proposed to. Thank God you don’t like me.”

He had expected some sort of gruff remark, but when none came, Simon turned to look at Jace in surprise. There was a slight tension in his posture and his face was guarded now.

“What? All I’m saying is, I don’t think I could have done this on my own- okay, I definitively couldn’t have done this on my own. Without panicking. It’s lucky that you don’t like me enough that the spell didn’t affect you.”

“ _Alec_ doesn’t like you.”

Simon opened his mouth to reply and then promptly closed it, staring at him in confusion. That was… actually, that was true. They were friends by now, he thought – he hoped – but not as close as he was with anyone else. If the magic was based on like and dislike, then Alec would have been able to keep his head and, most importantly, would not had asked Simon to _marry_ him which he didn’t think he would ever get over but was also happy to never mention it again out loud for as long as he lived.

But. Why would Jace remain unaffected then? He had said he didn’t feel any different. He must have though, because everyone else did. Everyone else had suddenly fallen in love with- oh. _Oh_.

Simon blinked, realization suddenly dawning, and it must have shown because Jace turned his head away – oh my God, was that a blush? Was Jace Wayland actually blushing?

“Now that we fixed your mess, I have to go back to the Institute,” and with those parting words – someone really had to teach the guy how to say goodbye one day – the Shadowhunter took a step away from him.

“Wait!” Simon called out, surprising them both by grabbing Jace’s wrist, causing him to look back. They stared at each other for a moment. He fought the urge to fidget. Or run away. “You uhm. Would you like to- grab a drink sometime? It doesn’t have to be today- or at all if you don’t want to! I just thought- I mean- you see, I kinda… … … … like… you? A lot. Oh God- uh, I mean-“

“Simon,” Jace interrupted and Simon could almost kiss him for that because if he kept digging himself a hole like this then he’d probably end up in China. Maybe. What was on the other side of the Earth from New York again? Probably not eyes like those, intense and sharp and holding so much and _someone kill him right_ _now_ , because his brain had decided to return to his early teenage years.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

And suddenly those eyes were _right there_ , a few inches away from his, and Jace was kissing him – not at all like he’d imagined, not firm or rough, but surprisingly gentle and soft, almost- no, definitively hesitant, like he thought Simon would back out.

It took him barely a second to recover from the shock and then he was kissing him back, firm and strong and sure in the face of Jace’s hesitation – self-doubt – and slowly, without him realizing it, his brain finally went quiet, his usual jumble of thoughts reduced to nothing but the warm lips pressed firmly against his own, the bangs brushing slightly against his forehead and his fingers wrapped tightly in Jace’s shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, you can find me [HERE](https://outofcertainty.tumblr.com/). You can make requests here or there really.
> 
> Have a nice Easter!


	4. Happiness [Clizzy, Malec, Jimon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [[Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time and we were all forgiven, even though we didn’t deserve it.](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/48158/)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 3 is a go, so have some emotional but happy stuff. 
> 
> (This is entirely Mary's fault.)

Another touch of red and _there._

Isabelle looked at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that, nodding once she was satisfied with the result. Not that this was a particularly fancy party, just a get together between friends. No, it was more than that now, it was _family_ , in a way that she’d never thought about before. Back in Idris, there was a suffocating ceremonial aspect to everything. There were rules and codes of conduct wrapped around their throats to keep them from speaking out of turn, wrapped around their shoulders to keep their backs straight. A warrior procession, not a family reunion.

There was none of that now. There is none of that need to watch herself, to be perfect. Izzy knew she could make a complete fool out of herself and it wouldn’t bother her much. More than that, it would carry no consequences to anyone. No one would be judging. They could just be themselves. She could be herself. Clary could be herself.

The thought brought a smile to her lips. She put the lipstick back in her purse, placed it over one shoulder and walked over to the adjacent room. The sight of her made Izzy pause immediately, breath caught in her throat.

Clary was leaning over, forearms braced against the wooden frame, legs crossed. White sneakers splashed with bright colors, jeans, a checked shirt over a white tank top, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Casual and practical with a touch of the whimsical, a touch of the dreamer, enhanced by the song she was humming, bright and clear. It brought her back to a childhood she never had, one filled with happiness and laughter and colorful handprints on the walls. It made _happiness_ flutter across her chest, unrestricted and unbound.

Isabelle smiled softly, swallowing the hope threatening to burst out – could they do that, could they have that, the family picnics, the finger painting? – and walked inside, steps quick but quiet, only betraying her presence once she was close enough by wrapping both arms around Clary and kissing her cheek.

“What are you singing?”

“It’s a Disney song,” Clary replied, laughing softly, glancing up at the ceiling. “Mom and I used to sing them all the time when I was a kid. It made me happy.”

“Disney are the cartoons you showed me, right?” Izzy asked, hold tightening a little. “With the singing teapot?”

“Don’t let Simon hear you or you’ll have to sit through all of them so many times the songs will never leave your head.”

“I could think of worse things,” she replied with a chuckle, kissing Clary’s shoulder this time.

A comfortable silence fell over them. Isabelle breathed it in – the lingering scent of fresh paint on the walls, the fruity perfume clinging to Clary’s skin, the last hint of warmth from the overly hot day – and let it flow into the cracked edges and deep scars she normally kept from sight, a soothing balm for a life of struggle and duty.

“I feel like dancing,” she said, suddenly giddy, not yet used to the idea that this, that _them_ , wasn’t temporary, that it wasn’t going to be stripped away. That she _could_ have this happiness. It made her feel dizzy, hopeful, like a revival, like a rebirth.

“We’ll wake her,” Clary protested, unconvincingly.

Izzy propped her chin on Clary’s shoulder so she could look inside the cradle. She seemed so small lying there, curled up into herself, thumb stuck in her mouth, dressed in that ridiculous onesie Simon had given them, the one with the white-starred blue bottom and red top and golden W.

“No she won’t, she could sleep through a demon invasion,” Izzy countered, stepping back before dragging Clary away a little so they wouldn’t bump into anything. A smirk tugged at her mouth as she linked their fingers together and raised them, placing a single kiss at the wedded union rune gracing the top of Clary’s hand.

Few things were able to completely take her breath away now, seeing as much as she had throughout the years, but one thing that managed to do it every single time was the look being sent her way. Isabelle had been loved before, she had been adored before, but not like this, not like she was the most precious thing in the world, not like someone was _thankful_ for having her in their life, like _she_ was the best thing that had ever happened to them or could ever happen to them.

Clary took a step closer, eyes turning mischievous, and grinned at her.

“If we’re going to dance, I have another Disney song in mind.”

Izzy raised a brow, still smirking.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“In Upendi!”

She barely had time to raise her brow higher before Clary was grabbing her other hand and circling them around – only years of training kept her from stumbling or tripping over herself and their lack of grace and coordination made her laugh unexpectedly.

“Where the passionfruit grows sweet, and it’s so divine that you lose your mind as it sweeps you off your feet,” it was _ridiculous_ , the way she was singing it, off-key and slightly breathless with their spinning.

They stopped, suddenly, and then Clary twirled her around, Izzy landing on her back-to-chest, feeling an arm wrap around her waist. They had done this before, roles reversed, when things were still new and Isabelle was showing her how to dance, leading as they swayed and dipped. Clary wasn’t as graceful or as practiced, but she was heartfelt and honest and bright, and it felt perfect.

“Without a worry or a care, it just takes two to make it true,” her voice lowered to a whisper, mouth brushing slightly over the shell of Izzy’s ear – breathless again, she leaned her head back slightly, eyes half-lidded. “Your heart will lead you there.”

Isabelle had never been the type to second-guess her heart. The few regrets she did have came from doing the exact opposite, from ignoring it entirely, from trying not to be more rational but _entirely_ rational. It had taken her a while to find that balance, between duty and love and happiness, between a reality that demanded pragmatism and a hope for the future that demanded idealism.

She could never bring herself to regret anywhere her heart had taken her, though, because in the end it had led her here, to the pastel yellow walls and the music box on top of the dresser and the warmth of kisses pressed behind her ear, her wife smiling wider and wider with each one.

It suddenly seemed very tempting to stay in, to tell the others they couldn’t go, to call Luke and tell him he needn’t come babysit after all, to keep dancing and laughing and kissing the night away, but it was precisely when she decided to suggest it that Dot started crying.

Clary didn’t step back, just leaned far enough to the right so that she could stare at her, brow raised in a perfect I-told-you-so expression. Izzy stared back, eyes wide open and serious, managing to hold it in for a second before they both started laughing, still tangled together and swaying lightly.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

“So I need you to take care of your brothers, sweetpea.”

Madzie rolled her eyes, gills flaring for a moment, but nodded anyway.

“I know, ayah. We talk about this _every time_ you and dad go out.”

Magnus chuckled, putting the final touches on her braid, strategically kept in place by shell-adorned scrunchies. Blue and green highlights ran throughout the dark strands, courtesy of the mermaid phase she was currently going through. Given her warlock mark, it seemed appropriate, although perhaps he should be concerned with the fact she leaned more towards the will-lure-you-to-the-depths-and-kill-you kind of mermaid than the singing-Disney-protagonist kind, despite Simon and Clary’s best efforts.

“That is because I _trust you_ with this, Madzie.”

She turned around once he was done and stared at him with narrowed eyes for a second before deflating a little. He opened his arms in invitation and she stepped in, hugging him with no hesitation.

“ _Okay_. I’ll help.”

“Thank you,” he hugged her tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. After a moment, Magnus released her with a smile and nodded towards the door, watching her go – head high and shoulders straight like she was on a mission, so reminiscent of her father that he had to chuckle fondly.

The thought reminded him that they should leave relatively soon. He turned around on the spot and made his way back to the foyer, stopping right before reaching it to see if they were still arguing back and forth.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve done this.”

“I know. I’m just reminding you that they have to be in bed by nine.”

“I know.”

Ah. So they were.

“And don’t let them have more than one scoop of ice cream.”

“I _know_.”

“And if they ask to talk to us-“

“Lightwood, if you repeat that _one more time_ -“

“It’s been Lightwood-Bane for years now.”

“ _You_ -“

Magnus stepped in, clasping his hands together and walking gracefully but swiftly towards them.

“Alexander.”

They both turned towards him, Alec with his arms crossed, brow raised and the slight smirk he always wore whenever he was purposefully antagonizing someone, Raphael with tense shoulders and a slight tick to his jaw that betrayed annoyance, not anger. It wasn’t really a matter of trust, he knew. Once, Alec wouldn’t have trusted the vampire with anything, much less his family, but those days were long gone.

It was merely that his dear Alexander was ever the worrying parent. Not to the point of being overprotective or overbearing, both of them knew that children had to make some mistakes and occasionally get hurt to grow, as much as they hated to see it – usually. He quite clearly recalled when Madzie had broken a meddlesome boy’s nose with her fist and how absolutely thrilled Alec had been about it.

Not that they hadn’t sat her down and explained that violence wasn’t the best solution, but Magnus hadn’t been particularly upset either, given that they had spoken to the boy’s parents several times and they refused to do anything to stop him from physically starting fights with the other children, especially the Downworlder ones. It was a testament to how far they’d come in the last few years that this was an isolated case and that most other Shadowhunter parents considered that behavior inexcusable.

What also made it remarkably difficult to be upset about the entire incident was the fact that Alec practically puffed his chest out whenever he was discussing it with their friends, talking so proudly of their little girl. _We break noses and accept the consequences_ , he had said, and Isabelle and Jace had smiled with such pride that Magnus had decided to let it go.

“Magnus.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be antagonizing our babysitter, would you?”

His fingers brushed over the breast of Alec’s deep green button-down. Getting him to wear anything other than black while working was a lost cause – no matter how often Magnus pointed out that he was the Head of the New York Institute, not of a funeral home – but it had been surprisingly easy to encourage him to try new things when off-duty. Especially if he happened to mention that they brought out his lovely eyes.

“No.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Raphael muttering under his breath – “ _maldito lengua larga”_ – as he made his way out of the room, presumably to go look for the kids. He had intended on telling him where they were, but a hand curled around his hip abruptly sent those thoughts out the window, forcing him to focus on Alec and the fingers gently brushing the edge of his bangs.

“You look great.”

“Why, thank you, Alexander,” his fingertips brushed along Alec’s jaw. “So do you.”

And he did. It wasn’t merely the clothes that suited him well, although that certainly helped and Magnus was nothing if not appreciative of his efforts. Confidence and determination suited him. Leadership suited him. Family life suited him. And, above all, _love_ and _happiness_ suited him.

“Thanks.”

Alec just stared at him for a moment, silent. His smile was a soft thing, all gentle curves and fond edges, but his eyes were sharp, focused and firm with trust and affection and _intention_ , the gaze of a man who had found his place in the world and wouldn’t let even the hounds of Hell drag him away from it.

Magnus tilted his head up slightly, leaned in, and Alec met him halfway in a featherlight kiss: a mere brushing of lips, warm and open-mouthed, unhurried and unrushed, breathtaking in its simplicity. The fingers around his hip pressed in slightly, his own curled around his husband’s neck – only for Alec to pull away at the sound of squealing and running footsteps, grinning far too widely but saying nothing.

“Aren’t you going to tell the children to behave?”

“I’m sure Raphael can handle them,” Alec replied, grin widening even further. Magnus rolled his eyes, tapping a painted fingernail against Alec’s jaw in a half-hearted attempt at a reprimand.

“Children,” he called, twisting in the direction of the door. “Please spare your uncle the gray hairs! He would _not_ be able to pull those off.”

The footsteps stopped long enough to hear Raphael’s protest before starting up again, followed by laughter and the tell-tale signs of a chase.

Alec dropped his forehead to rest on Magnus’ shoulder, shaking a little with silent laughter.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

“Hey. Are you happy?”

Jace looked up from the menu to stare at him. Simon was trying to smile – only half succeeding – but the fingers tapping nervously against the table gave him away. Momentarily putting aside any thoughts about coffee drinks with ridiculous amounts of sugar, Jace reached for the tapping hand and held it firmly.

“Is this about yesterday?”  
  
“No,” Simon replied and then continued. “Maybe? Yes. I mean- I’m not doubting you, I’m really not. I just- you’re you and I’m me and- I know things are different now and everything, but I still- you know there are plenty of people who could-“

Jace released his hand just so he could cup Simon’s face, gently tugging him closer. Simon went obligingly, blinking at him, quiet now.

“Simon,” he started, voice firm and sure. At one point, Jace had thought that he would never be certain of anything ever again, but now that certainty came to him surprisingly easy. It wasn’t the same type of cock-sureness he’d had when he was younger, it was something quieter but _stronger_. “I don’t care. The world’s changed and even if it hadn’t, I still wouldn’t care. You’ve _never_ looked at me differently, despite-“

Despite what he’d done. Not at the beginning, not after going with Valentine to spare them, not after the Soul-Sword, not after the war or the civil war that followed. Simon had looked at him no differently. They had stopped fighting and arguing as much, but if anything between them had changed, it was only due to a shared sense of _understanding_.

Everyone else looked at him like they could only see the broken pieces, the marks and the scars and the shattered remains of who Jace Wayland used to be, but Simon had just stared back – not blindly, not ignoring anything, but standing face to face, almost as if offering a hand.

Broken, too, piecing himself together from something no one could recover from, facing the stranger in the mirror, knowing the person everyone else was begging to return could never come back. When everything and everyone were too much, they found themselves gravitating towards one another, not willing to be alone but not wishing to speak either.

Slightly awkward silences gave way to comfortable ones. One day, Simon found out he could still sing, that he still liked to. One day, Jace found out that he could still smile, despite everything. Small things, made huge by what happened to them. They shared them knowing the other would understand, no matter how many times Jace made fun of Simon’s nerdiness while pretending not to cry at sad, romantic movies, or how many times Simon grumbled about Jace’s taste in coffee but still bought him the sugar-laden monstrosities.

Simon smiled at him, tension visibly seeping out of his shoulders as he turned his head to kiss Jace’s palm.

“Thanks. I meant it- I don’t doubt you- I just…”

“It’s okay,” Jace replied. “You don’t have to explain.”

He dropped one hand, the other staying in place due to Simon linking their fingers together. The noise and bustle seemed to fade to the background, Simon’s grateful smile the sole focus of his attention.

“You’re not getting out of watching Ten Things I Hate About You later.”

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

“What? At least it’s not A Walk to Remember! That one makes me cry every time- remember when we watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind- you started crying and then I started crying and then-“

A couple of years ago, Jace would have scoffed at the notion of crying at mundane movies or even vehemently protested the mere idea of doing that. It would have seemed stupid and ridiculous. Even later, he would have put up at least a token amount of protest. Now, it didn’t even matter. Right here, right now, Jace Wayland didn’t matter – who he had been didn’t matter, who he was supposed to be or supposed to have been didn’t matter.

What mattered was who he _was_ and what made him happy. Listening to Simon go on and on about which sad, romantic, mundane movie Jace would like best in the middle of a coffee shop selling caffeinated sugary drinks while waiting for their friends – for their _family_ – to arrive made him happy. Calm. Content. Like everything was going to turn out alright. If it didn’t make up for what he had done, then at least it allowed him to live with himself despite that.

“There they are!”

Jace blinked, watching Simon get up and walk towards the entrance, turning around himself so he could see the others approaching.

Clary was in the lead, taking quick strides, arms already open in invitation when she stopped abruptly, eyes widening for a moment. Her stare remained fixed on Simon’s hand and Jace felt himself smile, maybe a little smugly. Then, she let out an actual _squeal_ and ran towards her childhood friend, not so much hugging him as jumping him – leaving two confused friends and one annoyed-looking Alec staring after her.

Simon stumbled back with a laugh, arms wrapping around her, mindless of the attention drawn their way. “Hey, hey- easy- no more vampire, remember? No really cool, awesome strength- I guess the fighting training counts but you know, there’s no like, How To Resist Hugs From Best Friends 101 or anything like-“  
  
“Simon!” Clary said, squeezing his shoulders and jumping in excitement. The others caught up to them, brows clearly raised in confusion. “Did he- oh my God- when-“

“Yesterday,” Jace called out.

There was a moment’s pause, Simon ducking his head slightly. Clary picked up his hand, waving it so the others could see the ring on his finger – Jace promptly picked up the phone, snapping a quick picture of their faces – before dragging him back to their table.

“This is so great, guys! Congratulations!”

She hugged Jace as soon as he stood up and he held her for a moment, squeezing lightly in thanks. Maybe this should be weirder, for all of them, with all their history, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’s had enough complications for a lifetime.

“Thanks, Clary.”

She stepped back, smiling at him with suspiciously wet eyes, and then stood to the side to let the others have their turn. Alec was the first, patting Simon on the shoulder, before pulling Jace into a hug, too. He sagged a little bit, a dark memory of his return from Valentine flashing across his mind just for a moment. It wasn’t that he had expected anything different, but having the reassurance meant everything.

“I’m proud of you, parabatai,” Alec muttered, quietly. Jace blinked back tears, swallowing against the knot in his throat. A quick glance around revealed nothing but smiles and understanding and after a few moments, he was able to pry himself away. There was too much he wanted to say and not enough words to say it properly, but he didn’t have to voice anything. His gratitude sparked between them, bright and clear – Alec smiled at him, nodded and stepped back.

“You’ll have to deal with me now. Permanently, I mean,” Simon quipped up, grinning.

“You can’t be worse than Fray.”

“Hey!”

“What are you saying about my wife, big brother?”

“Nothing, Izzy.”

It was so _easy_ , this kind of banter. Jace listened to it, let him soothe him, releasing a wet, slightly-choked chuckle.

“Well, I’d say it was about time.”

He glanced away from them to focus on Magnus, now standing by his side. Jace rubbed the back of his neck with a muttered agreement, but laughed a little and stepped into the hug once the arms were open in invitation. It didn’t last as long as Alec’s, but it was solid and comforting and genuine, too.

Magnus tapped him on the temple after they parted. There was happiness and _pride_ in his gaze. He had helped them both through much but especially Simon, and through the most trying time of his life too. Jace opened his mouth to thank him but closed it at the wink directed his way.

“If you need any help with arrangements for the ceremony or the honeymoon, do let me know. It’s a joyous occasion and you two, my friends, deserve nothing but love,” and then, lower, while the others were still pretending to argue. “It’s alright, Jace. I’m happy to have helped, but don’t sell yourself short. _You’re_ the one who saved you.”

Then, with a wave of his hand and a comment about Alexander’s excellent, hands-on teaching methods, Magnus stepped aside.

Jace didn’t even have time to understand what they were talking about or how the conversation had shifted to that particular topic before Isabelle was stepping up to him. She was smiling and it took him by surprise – he had expected something wide and bright but it was soft and gentle instead. Izzy cupped one of his cheeks with her hand and stared at him, eyes bright with pride and tears.

“You deserve to be happy, brother.”

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. A part of him still wanted to argue – about deserving anything, much less happiness, about redemption having to be earned, about deeds that could never be undone. Carefully, mindfully, Jace exhaled. Instead of arguing about any of it, he stared at his sister and let himself say it, let himself _feel_ it:

“Yeah. I… I think I do.”

There was a stunned silence and then the smile he was expecting showed up: wide, full of joy and excitement as she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. He thanked her quietly before they turned towards the rest of the group.

Simon and Alec were actually _agreeing_ on something – and if that wasn’t a sign of the times, he didn’t know what was – and trying to convince a skeptical-looking Magnus and Clary about the virtues of black coffee.

Isabelle let out an exaggerated sigh.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say immortality has made you pretentious, big brother,” she said, joking and teasing. “Be careful, a few more decades and Magnus will have you wearing Gucci.”

“I _wish_ , my dear. Hermes had some great pieces in the spring fashion show, Alexander would look positively _ravishin_ g in some of them.”

Jace stayed quiet for a few moments, just watching. All of them had been through so much. Through _too much_. They were still here. Not how they imagined that they would be, but they had survived, they were still here. Despite everything, they were alive and together. They were a family.

His hands shook slightly as he took a few steps closer to Simon, grabbed him in the middle of whatever argument he was making in favor of that dark sludge he liked to drink, and pulled him into a kiss.

The conversation stopped, followed immediately by cheers and catcalls and laughter.

Simon smiled into the kiss, prompting him to run a thumb back and forth over his cheek. Jace held it until his lungs burned, lips pressed firmly against each other, slightly parted, firm and solid and sure and _hopeful_.

Someone made another comment, prompting the others to laugh again. Jace raised his free hand and flipped them; the laughter grew louder. Simon chuckled, placing a hand on top of the one resting against his jaw and when they linked their fingers, their rings brushed together.

_Yes_ , Jace thought, and truly believed for the first time in a long while, _he was happy_.


	5. Sleeves [Malec + Parabatai Bond/Friendship]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short but I posted it on tumblr so I might as well post it here too.
> 
> Inspired by this [poem here](http://tylerknott.com/post/10330410234/sleeves), but inverted. Not “to wear mine on yours” but “to wear yours on mine”.

He realized he wore Jace’s heart on his sleeve straight away.

It was there, immediately, after the flames and the burning, a heartbeat beneath his own – or above his own, but _there_ , alien and familiar and terrifying and exhilarating. Inescapable. He didn’t know whose heart echoes whose and, after barely a month, decided it didn’t matter all that much.

There was no going back. There was no returning to safer waters. He knew it was forbidden, he knew that if they had any idea of how he truly felt for Jace, they would never have approved of it. So Alec had kept it close to his chest, away from his sleeve, and went through with it anyway, spurred on by duty and friendship and familial love – his own feelings felt unimportant under the weight of his entire world.

It still startled him, at first. Later, it would be the _silence_ that felt foreign. So used was Alec to Jace’s heartbeat buzzing in the back of his mind, to feeling his brother’s irritation at mundanes, his unwavering loyalty to the Clave, his spark of anger and instinct and discipline, _flight and flight and survive, you have you survive_ response when they sparred, his enthusiasm right before he did something reckless on a mission, that being deprived of such things left him unstable, as if the earth was shifting beneath his feet, physically throwing him off and keeping him off balance.

There was _nothing_ on his sleeve. There was _nothing_ in his chest. Someone had burrowed in, dug and dug, found the treasure and escaped with it, leaving only the tell-tale signs of shifted black earth behind. The drum of his own heart sounded faint and forsaken, on the rare occasions he could hear it. Valentine had taken Jace and all that made Alec human with him. There was nothing but occasional sparks of anger, the last struggle of his survival instinct, like the electrifying jump that followed the sensation of falling down while trying to sleep. His brain, asking _, are you still alive?_

After a while, he managed to come back to himself, finding a puzzle with half its pieces missing. The blank spaces taunted him, empty. His ribcage collapsed in on itself, empty. His sleeve darkened, empty.

When he woke up, the first thing he felt was a desperation that was not his own and another’s pulse thundering in his throat.

 

*

 

He didn’t realize he wore Magnus’ heart on his sleeve straight away.

It was so easy to think of him as larger-than-life, as unbreakable and invulnerable. It was so easy to let his insecurities break through. Alexander Lightwood was the Head of the New York Institute – it was rightfully his, despite the politics –, duty and responsibility and fame were nothing new to him. Maybe if Magnus was only the High Warlock of Brooklyn, the gap would be easier to cross. But he was _centuries_ old. He was incredibly knowledgeable and experienced and his very presence exuded magic in that particular way that ancient Warlocks did, as if with every passing decade magic became not something they used but something they _are_.

Alec blamed his insecurities. Alec blamed the newness – of Magnus, himself, them – of this. Alec blamed the hollowness in his chest, the occasional flare of fury breaking through. Alec blamed a lot of things but he had never been one to shirk responsibility and he knew that ultimately the fault rested with him. Reasons were not excuses, and despite whatever reasons might have been behind it, he simply hadn’t realized that Magnus’ heart rested there, right on his sleeve.

Not until Jace had disappeared. Not until Alec had shouted at the wonderful man trying to help him, not once but twice. Not until Magnus had stared at him, silent for a moment that lasted far too long, eyes glistening beneath the lights of the Institute, gaze so stunned and _hurt_ and _angry_ that it had singlehandedly stopped Alec from digging himself a bigger hole.

 _“_ At the moment? _Nothing.”_

Afterwards, Isabelle had asked him what had happened. He’d mumbled something about Jace but the look she threw his way plainly stated she didn’t believe him. That had stuck with him, even after he’d apologized, after he’d been forgiven. It started creeping up on him, the realization that he carried Magnus’ heart with him whenever he went, that what he said and what he did would affect his boyfriend. Not like the other Shadowhunters, not like being responsible for people under his command, but on a _personal_ level.

And other people could _see_ it. That had thrown him off the most, used as he was to being the only one feeling his parabatai echoing through him, to having to explain whenever Jace was torn, or hurt, or confused, because no one else would be able to tell.

They _could_ with Magnus, somehow. They could tell when they fought, they could tell when they had been on a date, they could tell when they had just seen each other. It hit him, suddenly, when he was going through the report from a reconnaissance mission and Izzy had smiled at him and said that Magnus must have been in a good mood that morning, if Alec’s smile was any indication.

His head snapped up, staring at her as the realization sank in. People could read Magnus _through_ him. He carried Magnus’ heart on his sleeve. Exactly like he did Jace’s. Nothing like he did Jace’s. His parabatai bond had a rune, a physical manifestation, but the beat of it drummed underneath his skin, invisible and strange to everyone else except in the direst of circumstances. His relationship with Magnus had no rune, no physical brand – not yet – but it flared across his skin and sparkled in his eyes, visible and obvious to everyone, ceaselessly.

Magnus looked at him above the rim of his glass as Alec came closer, as he dipped down slightly to kiss him, one hand wrapping around his large wrist, the other brushing aside his boyfriend’s many necklaces to rest on his chest. To feel his heartbeat.

It was right there, underneath his fingertips. It was right _here_ , with him, always, a third echo. Intangible, yet just as real.

Alec chuckled into the kiss, felt Magnus smile before pulling back just enough to rest their foreheads together.

Three hearts. One, his parabatai’s, on his right sleeve, heartbeat in perfect synch with his own. Another, his lover’s, on his left sleeve, heartbeat in a different rhythm that complemented his own perfectly. The final one, Alec’s, tethered to both, hanging between them.

No. Not hanging between them. Kept in place, kept _safe_ by them.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
